Walk in the Shadows
by SonOfAstora
Summary: To protect the light. (Oneshot)


Walk in the Shadows

**xxxxXXXXxxxx**

Titan Jason Booker had been riding through the dust-storm for close to an hour, and was near his target. Gray and brown sand whipped around him, cutting the air and beating at his silvery Knight Type armour, failing to do more than obscure his view and scratch at the paint. It was then the wall seemed to rear out of the storm, and into his line of sight.

Jason pulled the brakes and expertly turned, the EV-30 Tumbler responding to his commands perfectly, side motors blasting the vehicle away from the rock, barely losing the slightest scrap of momentum. Then he hammered down on the gas and the vehicle blasted forwards, a jet of purple and orange flame blasting from the back.

He knew what he was here to do, and he didn't look forwards to it. His weapons were locked and loaded. His armour was clean and oiled. And his light was fully charged, ready to unleash any of the abilities at his disposal at a moment's notice.

But despite all this, his most dangerous weapon, he knew, would be his will. If he couldn't bring himself to do this when it counted, he was doomed to failure. So onwards he rode, steeling both his body, and his mind.

He realized he had arrived and pulled the airbrakes again, bringing the Sparrow to a halt, before vaulting off and landing hard on the ground, feet first. An explosion of settled dust leapt into the air where he landed, the sand joining the swirling storm within milliseconds.

Jason's radar was lit up blue on the fringes, before the inner quadrant directly in front of him lit up. Finally, the circle at the centre of the system lit up, and a cloaked and hooded figure emerged from the shadows. His cloak was fairly utilitarian, being little more than beaten and dirty brown cloth. However, in a display of almost out of place decoration, there was a red symbol on his chest. A black web, with a red spider in the centre.

"What do you want?" The figure asked warily, his hand sitting on the pommel of a large combat knife, another sign the man was indeed one of the Hunters, the cloaked pathfinders of the Guardians.

At least, he had been.

"Hunter Damien Corde. You have openly declared your intentions of turning Mountainhold into a sovereign state, controlled by you and your close allies." Jason said, reaching for his rifle. "I cannot allow this to pass."

"So you're here to stop us? Jason Booker… I've heard of you. You're the Watchers favourite thug, the one he sends to shut up folks like me, folks who refuse to accept that some dead god is the rightful ruler of OUR world." Damien said, his voice filled with anger.

"Stay your tongue, traitor." Jason said. "The Traveler is the reason you and I exist, the reason we live. We are his shield, the Guardians, and we were gifted with this second chance."

"Some gift! Born into a world where all we can do is fight and fight!" Damien yelled. "And as a reward for fighting? More weapons, more armour, MORE FIGHTING!"

"That is our duty as Guardians." Jason replied. "That is our lot in life, our duty to humanity."

"Humanity? HUMANITY?!" Damien began to yell again. "HUMANITY HAS DONE NOTHING FOR US! IF WE ARE THEIR GUARDIANS, THEIR PROTECTORS, WHY DO THEY NOT REWARD US? IF WE TRULY ARE ALL THAT STANDS BETWEEN THEM AND THE DARKNESS, WHY ARE WE NOT GIVEN SOMETHING IN RETURN?!"

"Because we are Guardians! We are not mercenaries or guns-for-hire, we are their defenders and their guides! Our reward is greatness, our payment glory! We will go down in history as the brave warriors, the knights in shining armour, the ones who saved humanity from its nightmares and demons!"

"That means nothing. I care not for glory, merely for power. Why should we, a SUPERIOR breed of beings, be forced to bow down to lesser peoples?"

"So that is what this is about. You feel you should rule through your might?" Jason sighed, posing the statement as a question.

"Of course! Look at Earths history, at its great leaders! All of them were mighty warriors, who took what they ruled without mercy! Alexander the Great, Genghis Kahn, Attila the Hun, mighty warriors, every one!" Damien said. "We guardians are the next generation of these great warriors, of these heroes, of these RULERS."

"I see. I had hoped it wouldn't be this way, but I suppose it must. You are steadfast in your principles, and I can respect that, no matter how mistaken those principles." Jason spoke.

"Our principles are unmistaken, our will is unbreakable. Even if you kill me, we will surround you, strangle you in our web." Damien replied, voice quieter, but still hostile. "We are called the Venom Spiders for a reason."

"Cypher-57 promised to see me dead, see my body laying upon the ground. But I broke out of his web as well." Jason said. "I am Titan, the wall against which the darkness breaks, and unlike you and your men, I have killed Guardians before."

"You will perish!" Damien said again.

"I will live, as I have a hundred times before." Jason replied. "I am Jason Booker, 'The Travelers Sword'. I toppled the renegade fortress of Solitude by myself, put over twenty rogue Guardians to my gun. They all died, but here I stand."

Damien did not reply to that, and Jason sighed, the sound lost to the howling wind as the storm grew more and more intense.

"Damien, I know you. You are not a traitor at heart. You and the Venom Spiders are some of the best Hunters on Earth, and I do not doubt you would return to the Travelers light if given the chance." He began. "So here it is. Lay down your weapons, and tell your fellows to do the same. Surrender, and I will spare you. My word holds great power in the court of the Listener, and I could easily have you forgiven. Just leave Mountainhold, and do not return."

"Never." Damien snarled. "You would have us bow to the Listener, and obey him. You would have us give up what we have fought for, what we have suffered to gain. We will never surrender to you, _lapdog_."

"So be it." And with that, a single shot rang out.

**xxXXxx**

A helmet clattered to the ground at the feet of the Listener, a Hunters Komarov 3.1 pattern, a single bullet hole bored into the eyepiece, spider-web fractures marring the glass around it.

"It is finished, then?" The Listener asked, looking at the helmets deliverer.

"Another group of traitors put to the death, sir." Jason replied. "Their bodies were delivered to the Hall for burial."

"Very good, Jason. 'The Travelers Sword' has done good work today." The Listener responded.

"When have I ever not?" Jason asked, grinning.

But the Listener was already talking to someone on a com-system in his ear, and Jason sighed quietly before retrieving the helmet and walking down the stairs, pausing at the bottom to look at the Traveler.

"It's funny." He said, staring. "They call me your sword, your bloody right hand. But… I don't walk in the light. I don't use your gifts for these tasks." He looked at the ground. "I guess I walk in the shadows, to protect the light." And with that he turned and walked away, hoping beyond hope the Traveler had heard him.

He knew in his heart it had.


End file.
